“The Free Cities aren't a real nation, strictly speaking. The north is merely a land. The cities are each ruled independently by one lord, whether the city's wealth and size compares to the Imperial capital or to a small town. There are records of the Free Cities forming a coalition under the rule of certain demon lords, long ago, when the Empire was actively hindering the north's grow. But nowadays, the lords stay isolated, and embody inaction at its finest. Surely they would unite again, were the north to be threatened once more by the Empire ?

-anonymous chronicler”

* * *

Erin

“These demons won't stop surprising me, and I don't like it.”

Erin glanced at Azcheron who kept grumbling and muttering complains as he dragged his feet. They were walking behind the maid who was apparently leading them to their chambers. The tournament had just ended and there was still a couple of hours before tonight's reception.

How course, Rudolph had won the event. Saraela was supposed to be, in everybody's mind, the strongest contender for the first place, and so he didn't meet any challenge in his ascension toward the top.

The maid stopped before a door, and motioned for Erin and Azcheron to enter. The room was large, with a four-poster bed, and high arched doors leading to a balcony – balconies were probably one of the lord's obsessions, seeing their absurd number across the entire castle.

One room and one bed ? Erin raised a brow. People usually gave them two rooms, or at least two beds.

As if guessing her thoughts, the maid explained herself with an emotionless voice. “Lord Sazael assured me that you only needed one room and one bed. If it isn't to your lik-”

“It isn't, we shall require two bedrooms, many thanks,” Azcheron ushered the maid outside and closed the door immediately thereafter.

Erin tilted her head. “But we don't need two, do we ?”

“No, we don't.” He crossed his arms. “But that demon lord acts like he knows everything. It pisses me off.”

“Is that your way of getting back at him for some imaginary offences ?”

Azcheron snorted and approached the bed, letting himself fall on the mattress. “We may have underestimated him. He knows way too much, I didn't plan for that. It makes me uneasy.”

“And there's Rudolph's enigmatic presence here.”

“Hm. The city of Atharemine sure has shown herself to be quite dangerous, in the mere span of an afternoon...”

Erin stayed silent and shivered, feeling the late afternoon breeze as she stepped through the arched doors, on the balcony. It overlooked the entire city. The view was gorgeous. Squares houses and temples and aqueducts, it really felt like they were in an ancient city, like the Imperial towns used to be, perhaps, centuries ago.

“This room is nice,” she heard Azcheron saying from inside the room. She turned back to see him still laying on the bed, looking at her. “I like balconies. I wonder if we could ask Anton for a room like this one.”

“You're going to rebuild his entire house at this rate. Are you planning to spend your life living with him, in the capital ?”

Azcheron lifted his head and sat up. “Of course not. I wouldn't want to force you to spend too much time there, anyway.”

“Heh. Why are you saying that as if you care about what I want ? I know you'll end up doing whatever you want to do, wherever that brings you.”

“You're right, I'm not saying this for you. But then again, you're not with me just for my sake either, hm ? We have an understanding of some sort.”

Erin shrugged. “This conversation is becoming very cryptic, I'm not sure I follow. Should we talk about the demon lord, instead ?”

“Ah. Perhaps we should refrain from speaking about this matter too. Our dear lord Sazael is well informed, so much that it wouldn't surprise me if the walls around here had ears, and eyes, and even noses, perhaps.”

“Then what ?”

“I have a plan.” She frowned. “Don't make that face. I've decided what I want to do about that whole war thing. It's a great opportunity. Leave it to me !”

Yay... I wonder if I'll regret it.

* * *

The evening came. The maid came to fetch Erin and Azcheron, and showed them to the reception hall. Proper clothing for the event had been provided to the pair, but of course the Saint insisted they didn't need it, spitting on the lord's generosity. It was fine for him, seeing as he had his fancy tunic which could pass as a traditional attire from some random foreign country, but Erin only had her travel clothes with her. The less crude thing she had was a plain, dark grey doublet, which could have been perfect for her merchant disguise, but now she was unmistakeably known as lady Erin of house Verald, knight of the Empire, and niece of the lord chancellor.

Azcheron didn't budge and she didn't feel like arguing with him so she went with the doublet and planned a revenge for later.

Erin wasn't really expecting an intimate dinner with a small number of guests, but the feast was surprisingly grandiose. It was certainly on par with the reception they had at the Farril manor, months ago. Obviously, neither the savage outdoors banquet with Kalithazar, nor the drab meal with Karia, could possibly compare with this reception that wonderfully demonstrated lord Sazael's exquisite taste for... exquisite taste.

Indeed, the first and foremost impression she had was that the lord was somewhat obsessed with displaying and showing off his collection of paintings, tapestries and sculptures, his accumulation of jewels, pots, exotic plants, and whatever else he could exhibit without turning his dinner hall in an art gallery or a cabinet of curiosities.

As dubious as the lord's modesty could be, the place itself was fairly enjoyable. Amazingly, the decoration didn't feel gaudy at all, and the hall was illuminated with sparse torches and small candlesticks, which gave it a comfortable atmosphere despite the hosting of about fifty guests. Of course, there were columns. Plenty of columns. And balconies, again, even if they were inside the castle. The room had an upper floor, where you could probably observe more art and... things, and from which you could overlook the tables.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The maid led them to their seats, which were very close to the lord's end of the table, right next to captain Saraela's seat, in fact. On the table were cups of wine and bowls filled with grapes, peaches and plums. The main course had yet to be served, so in the meantime Erin grabbed a few fruits for herself. She caught sight of Rudolph across the room, who was busy making small talk with knights, rich people, and potential employers, perhaps.

As she sat and bit a grape, she turned her head and realized, horrified, that Azcheron had disappeared somewhere.

Nnngggg !? A feeling of impending doom crept up.

She glanced around in the hope that he only had spotted a strange meal that piqued his curiosity, but he was nowhere to be found. She was about to get up to search for him when Saraela took her seat next to her. Erin took a few seconds to recognize her, since she was wearing a rather fluffy dress that didn't exactly suit the idea anyone could have of the city watch's captain.

“Are you enjoying the feast, merchant Erin ? No, I suppose it's lady Verald, now...” Saraela said with a tinge of sarcasm.

“My, a splendid feast indeed, lady Saraela.” Erin didn't fail to notice the lord's daughter frown when she heard the word 'lady'. “Apologies for my current attire, we only brought travel clothes with us.”

“But I believe lord Sazael offered to lend you clothes ?”

'Lord Sazael', hm ?

“And we are thankful to your father's generosity,” she replied, observing Saraela's eye twitching as she stressed the word 'father'. “But unfortunately I have... my own unpleasant circumstances.”

“And what circumstances would that be, dearest Erin ?” Azcheron's voice came from behind. They both turned to see the Saint approaching with the demon lord at his side. You started to plot already ? Can't schemes and mind games wait until we've finished eating ?

“Honourable Saint,” lord Sazael spoke gleefully, “circumstances are what they are : circumstances. Sometimes it is best if they aren't spoken of, especially if they prove too revealing about one's character. It would be a shame if we were to find out that some of the guests here were, one could say, oafs stopping beautiful ladies from wearing appropriate clothes, don't you think ?”

Azcheron glanced discreetly at Erin with a meaningful look. Yes, that confirms us that Sazael has been spying on us. The maid, maybe. Some magic, perhaps. It doesn't explain how he learned of our identities, however, so don't act like an idiot.

“Oh, I very much think so. Let us keep clothing circumstances in the utmost secrecy. It seems there are already far too many people aware of said circumstances, anyway.”

Erin silently cursed as she realized Sazael had probably the same taste as Azcheron for cryptic teasing and disguised mockery, while Saraela wore an expression of utter confusion, since the conversation couldn't possibly make sense to anyone not knowing of the Saint's abominable character.

The demon lord faced Erin. “Are you perhaps hungry, my lady ? The main course shall be served shortly.”

Azcheron and Sazael sat at their rightful places, and so did the other guests when they spotted the servants coming with plates and bowls filled with beef and curious vegetables Erin had never seen in the Empire. Everyone began to eat and chatter in a most pleasant atmosphere.

“So,” Azcheron addressed the lord, “would you mind telling us in detail about your, let us say, keen interest in some of your guests' lives ?”

“I merely hear rumours from... friends in the capital. My friends are very interested in the capital's affairs, and I am very interest in my friends' interest.”

“You seem to be both an interested and an interesting man, lord Sazael,” Erin said before sipping her wine. “And what, if we may inquire, would be of such interest to you and your friends in the capital ?”

“Aah,” he smiled widely. “I find it convenient to be aware of the many happenings through the world. For instance, my interest allowed me to greet the two of you with the honour you truly deserve. I would have regretted it all my life, had I not known I was beholding veterans from the Desolate Lands, one who was born in one of the oldest Imperial families and who faced the infamous Oscar in a sword fight, the other who sparred against the Dragon Slayer and who made a death threat to the Emperor during his own audience.”

“Wha-” Saraela gasped.

“You're well informed,” Azcheron said after swallowing a bite of the juicy beef.

Lord Sazael waved the praise away with his hand. “Not as well as I wish I was. The purpose of your visit here is still unknown to me, I'm afraid. Still, I find it rather amusing that you two keep using your real names even when trying to go unnoticed. You realize that you are now famous in... certain circles ?”

We actually spread our names deliberately, but it wouldn't do to tell him that.

“And what sort of circles are we talking about ?” Erin wondered, making her cup swing between two fingers.

“The kind that deals in warfare and plots,” the demon answered as he grabbed a jug and poured her more wine. “Probably all the leaders of the continent, if I had to guess. They take interest in scandals, uproars and potential threats, and so do I.”

She gave him a pleased smile, appreciating the generous gesture. “News surely travel fast.”

“Yet they can be so slow, sometimes. The birds carrying them, however, are indeed fast.”

Not fast enough to reach Karia's castle before us, apparently.

Sazael couldn't possibly have guessed what she was thinking, but he then unknowingly answered her thoughts. “My friends seemed to have taken some time before learning of your destination. It was only three days ago that I received a message informing me that two particular fellows had found themselves in chancellor Varymiel's sights, and had supposedly fled north. You can imagine my surprise when my daughter came to me a couple of days later, telling me that deserters going by the names of Azcheron and Erin had knocked to our doors... To find refuge, by any chance ?”

“We are not fleeing, lord Sazael.” Azcheron's tone was surprisingly – or perhaps, unsurprisingly – very cold and intimidating.

“No ? I thought for a moment that I might have found the reason of your presence here. Why, then, have you come to our city of Atharemine, if not to receive protection against the Empire ?”

He's not even considering the possibility that we may have come here to take his head and ask the Emperor for forgiveness ? Or he's avoiding mentioning that because he doesn't want us to know he's suspicious of us ? Or he has his reasons... I'm not even sure myself what Azcheron wants to do here. I hope he won't behead everyone in the room without warning...

“Protection, you say...” Azcheron gazed at the people in the reception hall, and from her seat Erin caught a glimpse of a smile, quickly hidden away once he turned back toward the demon.

“Lord Sazael,” he continued, “do you know what I see when I look around ?”

“Maybe our demonic race, to which your eyes are not accustomed ? Our people can be hard to bear for the Imperial eye, or so I've heard.” the lord joked. “But forgive me, I do not know what you see. What then ?”

“Dead people.”

The demon lord squinted his eyes and pursed his lips, but kept silent. His daughter, less so.

“Are you insulting us, Saint Azcheron ? No... threatening us ?” She was glaring at him, but the fluffy dress greatly hindered her intimidating behaviour, as did her hand, vainly fumbling at her waist for the guard of her sword.

The hall became silent for a moment, everyone was looking in their direction. With a single gesture of the hand, Sazael signalled for the curious guests to go back to their own chatting.

“I merely say the truth. Disembowelled soldiers, raped women, mutilated children. Charred bodies. Such is the fate that will befall your city, once Karia's army comes. You cannot protect anyone from the Empire. The Empire hates your people, and you don't have the means to defend yourselves.”

Sazael leaned on the table and supported his jaw with his hands crossed. “Why do you think so, honourable Saint ?”

“We passed through the Great Sorceress' camp on the way here. You have maybe a few thousands men to defend your town. They have at least thirty thousands. And with these numbers maybe you could have withstood a siege, if it wasn't for Karia.”

“Half of her army is comprised of mere fanatics who never even held a sword before,” Saraela interjected.

“But that's not the case anymore. Haven't you heard ? Karia had been taking northern cities at a rather fast pace. Her men all had a taste of the war, and they're asking for more. Soon Pelirise will be targeted, and then it will be your turn. You should have allied with the other cities before they got sieged, then maybe you could have done something. That was poor planning. If I were you, I'd hang, no, behead whoever advised to wait while the Free Cities were falling one by one.”

Eh... Erin raised a brow. Are you a general, now, Azcheron ? Well, Anton was your teacher and a general, and we've all heard of his achievements when he was in the army, so I guess it's not that surprising to want to act like one... In any case, Erin kept silent for now, as Azcheron asked to let him to his thing.

“What difference would Karia's presence make, really ?” the city watch's captain shrugged. “She is but a single witch. She'll cast a few spells and raise their already absurd moral, at most.”

“Perhaps your father can enlighten you ? Lord Sazael, what do your friends in the capital say about the Great Sorceress ? Has she usurped her title of hero ? What about the tales of her subjugation of a demon army, alone and at the age of fifteen ? Your daughter, Erin and I were barely children and infants at the time, but surely you have lived long enough to remember that ? Even though it happened on the other side of the Empire.”

Lord Sazael simply closed his eyes and nodded. Erin had heard the stories too. Karia was already a battle mage, serving in an army dispatched against a horde of uprising demons in the southern border. But, without waiting for her general's orders, she charged alone and engulfed the entirety of her enemies in a sea of flames, leaving only a field of blackness and cinders behind her.

The lord sighed. “What is your point, Azcheron ? It almost sounds like you're about to say something important.”

“Hmm.” The Saint took his time to chew a large piece of meat. “Well, Karia is, without a doubt, among the top three Imperial magicians.”

“And who could possibly be the other two, I really wonder...”

“Roharl the Dragon Slayer, obviously,” Azcheron answered innocently, ignoring the sarcasm. “And then of course, me, the Rahal Saint”

My lords, my ladies, I have the extreme pleasure to present you my partner, the most humble person in the world. Azcheron, master of modesty.

Sazael and Saraela stared wordlessly at Azcheron, waiting for him to finally say it.

“You may very well have the best network of informants in the entire continent, lord Sazael. But Karia is coming at you with sheer power, absurd power – the kind that will crush armies, walls and tactics alike – and your spies couldn't protect you against her, even if you were to reward them handsomely.” He poured himself some wine and sipped it nonchalantly. “But I could.”

Here it is, my good lords, my good ladies. Azcheron, master of elegance, protector of the weak, will offer to save your city, but only after being rude to you in every possible way, if he feels you deserved it.

After a brief silence, Sazael replied. “...For a handsome reward, then ?”

“For the most handsome of rewards,” Azcheron said with his trade-mark grin.